


Snowbells and Forget-Me-Nots

by distant_rose



Series: Little Pirates [10]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A ridiculous amount of flower talk, Anniversary Bouquets, Captain Swan Anniversary, F/M, Flowershop!Gideon, Where Captain Swan isn't necessarily present but is the focus and drives the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distant_rose/pseuds/distant_rose
Summary: Needing some space, Gideon Gold spends his summer working in his Grandpa Moe’s flower shop where he often stays late to work on specialty projects such as wedding and anniversary bouquets. Seeking refuge from her grandmother, Beth Jones needs a place to hide where no one would ever look to find her. While allowing her to hide in Game of Thorns, Gideon ropes Beth into helping him with a project for her parents. (AO3 Request)





	Snowbells and Forget-Me-Nots

**Author's Note:**

> Roughly three weeks ago, someone on AO3 anonymously requested some Beth/Gideon interaction. I tried to write it last weekend and I got like 5,000 words in before my computer decided to be an ass and deleted it. I was able to savage 3,700 of those words mainly because I had shared bits and pieces of it with one of my most awesome internet friends. It was a pain in the ass, I had a meltdown and decided to take a break from the story. Anyway, I apologize to the person who wanted this fic like three weeks ago. I hope this met all of your expectations. If you squint a bit, you can definitely see that Arya Stark is one of many major influences in regard to the creation of Beth Jones. Anyway, Gideon is 16-15ish and Beth is 11 in this installment. Questions, comments or the like, feel free to message me on tumblr @ distant-rose.tumblr.com

It surprised nearly everyone when Gideon Gold had decided to take a summer job at his grandfather’s flower shop. Naturally, all of them, especially his father, had expected him to follow into the family business of helping run Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer, but Gideon had no desire to be at the pawn shop anymore than he already was. His mother had understood that he had needed to branch out and to be given so breathing space. His father had taken it as best as Gideon could expect and, predictably, saw it as a personal slight. The elder Gold handled this decision in the same passive aggressive way he handled every slight, imagined or otherwise, with snippy remarks and judgmental stares. 

The truth was, though he had decided to work with his grandfather to have some space, Gideon enjoyed being in the flower shop. There was a quiet zen to Game of Thorns that calmed his spirit and allowed his thoughts to drift peacefully. There wasn’t any strange hums of foreign magic lingering around aside from Gideon’s own magic, which permeated around the shop; living and growing inside the flora under his care. The air was always fresh and fragrant with the smell of newly bloomed flowers and fresh buds which allowed him to breath easier. It also helped that the shop was cool and the air conditioner was always on, something Gideon was incredibly thankful in the sweltering heat of the New England summer. As the temperature continued to rise, Gideon had never been more thankful to have taken work in his grandfather’s shop rather than suffer through the stale aired dusty hot-box that was the pawnshop.

More than just preferring the atmosphere of Game of Thorns, Gideon actually enjoyed working with the flowers. At first, Grandpa Moe had only let him tend to the plants and Gideon had spent weeks watering, fertilizing and pruning nearly everything in the shop; learning the idiosyncrasies of each and every flower. (And if he had given so dying plants a bit of a magic touch, well no one was the wiser.)

It was on a long day full of back orders for Nick Zimmer and Mary LeBeau’s wedding when Gideon’s talents with floral arrangements and custom bouquets was discovered. He had an eye for color and a taste for the creative that was unexpected but not unwelcome. He would never forget how Grandpa Moe had clapped him on the back and called him a prodigy florist for making centerpieces with calla lilies, delphiniums, agapanthus and hyacinth blossoms that perfectly matched the deep royal purple of the bride’s theme.

Since then, Grandpa Moe had given him more freedom to work on projects in the shop and even allowing him to work on specialty orders alone. If the flower choices seemed somewhat unorthodox or if the flowers stayed fresh and lively longer than what was considered natural, no one made a comment on it.

Working with specialty arrangements gave Gideon a better insight into all the inner workings of Storybrooke in ways that he had never experienced before. As a child, he had always been on the outside looking in and always kept out of the loop mainly due to fear and resentment that many felt towards his father. The Charming family and his mother may have forgiven him for his past sins, but the rest of the town wasn’t so willing to bury the hatchet. Now, Gideon knew when who was dating who, who was cheating who and who with, who was in love, who was getting married, who was getting divorced and didn’t want to be divorced and who was graduating. Never in a million years had Gideon thought he would know as much information about the citizens of Storybrooke as he did just from working at the flower shop. It was a lot to soak in, but it was something that Gideon was learning came with the territory of being a florist.

It was while working in the flower shop that Gideon realized how stupidly in love Mr. Jones was with Mrs. Jones. Without fail, twice a month on a Friday morning, Killian Jones would pay a visit to Game of Thorns and buy a dozen roses for his wife before they went out for date night. Gideon had known the Joneses since before he could remember and their middle son Westley was his best friend, but he had never really paid much attention to the relationship between Westley’s parents before he started working with Grandpa Moe.

“He’s a romantic,” his grandfather commented one day after Mr. Jones had left with his bimonthly roses, leaving nothing but a twinkling bell and a five dollar tip in the jar on the counter in his wake. “I never expected that of the Captain, but he is. It’s half the reason I give him a discount. Gotta invest in your regular customers, Gideon, it helps with the business. Treat them right and they will keep coming back.”

It was towards the end of August when Mr. Jones broke pattern. Gideon had been working on a specialty bouquet for the Hermans to give their daughter Alexandra after her equestrian tournament when Mr. Jones strode in and didn’t immediately pick up the rose bouquet from the set up near the front of the shop. Instead he walked over and leaned over the counter, watching Gideon work with curious eyes.

“What are you working on, lad?” 

“A bouquet for the Hermans for Alexandra's horse thing. It’s mainly lady slipper orchids, white roses, calla lilies with some Queen Anne’s lace. Thought it would be appropriate for Cinderella’s daughter to get some slipper flowers. The neutral colors will compatible with the horse’s coloring if they decide to take photos with them,” Gideon responded, looking up from his work curiously. A faint blush covered his cheeks when he realized he probably just spewed off more information than Mr. Jones would care to know. 

Mr. Jones nodded for a moment, looking thoughtful as he continued to watch Gideon work. It wasn’t normal for people to watch him aside from Grandpa Moe. Normally when people came to the shop they were too wrapped up in their own business and were trying to figure out which flower to choose to convey the right message than focus on what he was doing. Gideon felt fidgety under the attention, tugging a bit on his sleeves.

“You’re quite good at that. Snow and Emma won’t stop talking about the flowers you arranged for Ruthie’s birthday party.”

“Thank you,” Gideon replied, focusing all of his attention on the flowers because he wasn’t sure how else to act under the praise. “It was a bit of a no brainer though. Snowbells aren’t a traditional flower for arrangements but I couldn’t resist using them with baby’s breath and white hydrangeas. It’s always good to hear that my work is appreciated especially when Mrs. Nolan and Ruth are quite knowledgeable on flowers in their own right.”

“Well, considering you’re quite talented with flowers, I was hoping you would work on a special order for me,” Mr. Jones responded, tapping his fingers lightly on the glass display. It was a move that most people would view as a sign of irritation or annoyance, but Gideon recognized it was a nervous tick. Westley did the same thing whenever he felt anxious.

“No red roses today, Mr. Jones?” Gideon asked with a delicate frown.

“No, I’m getting the roses, however my anniversary with Emma is coming up in a few weeks and I was hoping you personally would work on some grand bouquet to mark the occasional. Is that quite alright with you?” Mr. Jones explained, quirking an eyebrow at Gideon in inquiry. 

“Certainly,” Gideon replied, his face now entirely red. “I would be honored. Do you have anything in mind? A certain flower you want me to use as a centerpiece? What flowers did Mrs. Jones have in her wedding bouquet?”

“Snowbells were used in the wedding if I remember correctly, but I’m not quite certain on that. I don’t have anything in mind, you have a full carte blanche as long as you don’t use red roses. I give them to her all the time. This…this needs to be special. You can do that, right?”

“Absolutely,” Gideon replied with a wide smile, nearly humming with excitement over the mere thought of having a carte blanche project where he was allowed to let his creativity run wild. His fingers were already itching to write out the ideas already formulating in his mind. It would be the best project.

Until it wasn’t. 

Two weeks later, Gideon was leaning over his workbench in the back of the shop looking over at least fifteen different types of flowers, all various shades of blue and white. He knew he wanted to incorporate forget-me-nots and snowbells, but neither of those made for great base flowers. White camellias? Avalanche roses? Blue hydrangeas? Lilies? He had too many flowers and too many different ideas.

As he was debating the merits of using white hydrangeas instead of blue, the front door of the shop opened and slammed with a loud clatter, the shop bell ringing so hard that it sounded more like an alarm than a merry announcement of a new customer. Gideon frowned. It was the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday evening in September. Unless someone’s birthday was tomorrow and someone was coming in for a last minute floral arrangement, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would be in the shop so late in the day.

Curious of who had just entered the shop, Gideon straightened the front of his apron and walked calmly out of the backroom and to greet them.

Elizabeth Jones, Storybrooke’s very own human epitome of a hurricane, was braced against the door breathily heavily. Her hair was more wild than usual, her haphazardly tied braid falling loose and rogue strands curling in every direction. The bottom hems of her jeans were frayed, ripped and caked with dirt while an unidentified liquid was smeared across the front of her tank up. An angry bruise was blooming to life across her left cheek and Gideon couldn’t help but be concerned at the sight of it. He stepped forward from behind the counter. 

“Elizabeth, are you okay?” he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle.

Elizabeth’s eyes snapped towards him and she looked startled to him standing there. She bit her lip, which was more subconscious habit than anything else. Her fingers immediately went to the fish hook that was hung around her neck by a silver chain, a gift from her father if Gideon remembered correctly.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out, promptly ignoring his question.

“I work here,” Gideon answered simply.

“Why?”

 “Because that’s what I do. Now answer my question, Elizabeth. Are you okay?” he asked again, slightly annoyed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. And no one calls me Elizabeth, you know? It’s Beth, you weirdo,” Elizabeth responded with a roll of her eyes, a typical pre-teen move that Gideon himself had pulled many a times in his life. 

“The big shiner says otherwise,” he responded, ignoring the nickname comment. There was no way in hell he was calling her by her preferred nickname, especially not when he could get her so riled up with it. It drove her and Robin Mills nuts to be called by their first names. 

Gideon leaned back against the counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest, giving her a somewhat disappointed look. He had seen Mr. Jones take this pose many times with Elizabeth, and she normally wilted and gave in to whatever demand he was asking for when he did.

“Oh this?” Elizabeth pointed to the nasty looking bruise. “That’s nothing. Jamie Whale called Ruthie fat and made her cry, so I couldn’t let it stand. He looks worse than me. I know how to fight you know.” 

Gideon let out a low whistle. Jamie Whale was three years older than her and was much larger than the small, scrawny Elizabeth. He had at least a good eighty pounds on her. Though, Elizabeth was scrappy and probably the toughest eleven-year old that Gideon had the pleasure of knowing. He had seen her put her brothers in headlocks before. However, there was a bigger difference between actual fighting and sibling squabbles.

“You shouldn’t be fighting people who are bigger than you,” Gideon admonished her with a sigh.

“Then I wouldn’t be fighting anyone at all,” Elizabeth replied, once more rolling her eyes. One of these days her eyes were going to fall out of her sockets, Gideon was sure of it.

“And what a pity that would be,” he responded with faint amusement.

“You sound like Grandpa David,” Elizabeth responded absent-mindedly, pushing away from the door and looking around the shop. “Are you sure you want to work here? It seems a bit girly...”

Gideon bristled a bit at the comment.

“Flowers might be…feminine, but it’s quite relaxing to work with them. Why do you play with swords? Aren’t those too manly for you?” Gideon asked in return, arching an eyebrow at her as he mentioned Elizabeth’s love for swordplay. The girl spent an unnerving amount of time around sharp pointy objects for someone her age.

“I don’t play with swords,” Elizabeth responded, folding her arms in front of her chest and glowering at him in a fashion that was so familiar to her mother when she was scolding him and Westley that Gideon nearly did a double take. “I practice with them, so I can fight bad guys someday like Mom and Dad do. And just because I’m a girl that doesn’t mean I can’t like fighting with swords.”

“And just because I’m a guy that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy working with flowers,” Gideon responded, gesturing towards Elizabeth with one hand as he made his way back behind the counter. “Catching my point here, my young apprentice?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Elizabeth replied impatiently with yet another roll of her eyes. “I get it. Boys can like girl things and girls can like boy things because it’s all just things. Mom gave me that lecture like two nights ago.”

“Good, good,” Gideon couldn’t help but smirk at her. “It’s a good lesson to learn, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath.

“If you’re not able to drive, then you’re a kid. Unless you somehow got your license without me knowing. But then again, this is you we are talking about. You probably could just bat your eyes at someone and they would forge one for you.”

“That’s not true and you only have your permit, so you’re a kid too.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Gideon replied with some amusement. “Out of curiosity, does that attitude of yours ever get you in trouble? Is that why you’re hiding in the shop? Who did you piss off? Jamie Whale?”

“I wouldn’t run from Jamie Whale,” Elizabeth scoffed. “I kicked him in the nads and he went down like a domino. No, I’m hiding from Grandma Snow.” 

Gideon couldn’t stop his eyebrows from rising to his hairline even if he wanted to. He leaned forward against the glass counter and looked at her with piqued interest. Snow White was a lovely person and incredibly doting to her children and grandchildren, however she did have a habit of trying to make her daughter and granddaughter as feminine as possible. Naturally, Elizabeth, who had wanted to be a pirate the minute she popped out of the womb, wasn’t necessarily on board with anything pink, glittery or involving lace. It made Sunday nights at Granny’s entertaining. 

“Your grandmother is a wonderful person who feeds me pie and she always has your best interest at heart. I’m sure it would make her day if you wore some pink abomination at least once.”

“It wasn’t just pink!” Elizabeth protested, flailing her arms in emphasis of her distress. “It was pink and it had glitter AND ruffles! And it was a dress! I would rather eat raw codfish than wear it!”

“Ah. Say no more. One of the seals of the Apocalypse would break and hellfire would rain down on us if, heaven forbid, you wore a pink, sparkly, ruffled….do I dare say it?...ah yes, dress,” Gideon replied, doing his best to hide his smile.

“You’re making fun of me,” Elizabeth scowled. 

“Just a little bit,” Gideon responded, pinching his thumb and pointer finger together in order to give her some visual aid to just how much he was making fun of her.

“Wearing a dress wouldn’t make you any less of a bad ass,” Gideon said to her gently. “I mean, I’m pretty sure wearing a dress wouldn’t stop you from taking down Jamie Whale with a swift kick to his gentlemanly bits and regardless of your choice of outfit, you will forever be the pirate princess of Storybrooke. Nothing will take that away.”

“Pirate queen, Gideon, pirate queen. Princesses don’t have much power, queens do,” she replied with a scoff, but she shifted the way her arms were folded across her body. It looked more like she was hugging herself rather than crossing her arms in anger. Dare he say it, but Elizabeth Jones looked almost…vulnerable in a way Gideon had never seen her since she was a squalling baby. “I just don’t like to wear them.”

“And why is that, Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth didn’t immediately respond. She merely looked at him with a look that was so intense that he felt lasers would going to emit from her eyeballs and melt him on the spot. Gideon shifted a bit under the look, resting his elbows against the counter. 

“Do you promise not to tell?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.

“I promise,” he replied just as quietly. 

“Do you pinky swear?” She made it sound like he was swearing in to be put on trial.

 

Gideon leaned more forward until the glass case cut into his stomach. He extended out his arm and offered Elizabeth his pinky. She looked at it with a solemn expression for a moment before lacing her much smaller pinky finger around his. Their fingers were locked for a brief moment then she pulled away and Gideon leaned back to get more comfortable.

“I don’t like how they make me feel...All naked and weird...Wes skirted me one time after Henry’s graduation ceremony and everyone saw my underwear and people laughed.” 

“Your brother can be a butt sometimes, huh?” Gideon said with a sympathetic smile.

As much as he wanted to stick up for his best friend, he couldn’t deny that skirting Elizabeth was something Westley would absolutely do and if Elizabeth was as young as Gideon remembered her being when it happened, it would definitely be something that would mentally scar her. Gideon loved Westley dearly, but there was no denying that he had his asshole moments.

“Just sometimes?” Elizabeth snorted. “More like all the time.”

“Look, I am sympathetic to your…for a lack of a better term…your plight. You can stay at the flower shop as long as you like. I might be here late anyway. I’m working on a project for your Dad and I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do make it as grand as he wants,” Gideon said as he raked a hand through his hair.

Elizabeth frowned at him.

“You’re working on something for Dad? My dad actually comes here?”

“You kidding? Your dad is our best customer. He buys roses for your mom constantly. I’m working on your parents’ anniversary bouquet right now actually,” he responded. He then smiled as a brilliant idea blossomed to life in his mind. “In fact, want to help me with it?”

“I don’t know anything about flowers, Gid,” Elizabeth responded, shaking her head. 

“But I do and that’s all we need. Come on, I need some fresh eyes,” he said, opening the little small divider between the shop and the section behind the counter.

He gestured for her to join him in the back room. Elizabeth let out a loud dramatic sigh and followed him. Gideon watched her green eyes go wide as she took in the various times of flowers that were overflowing his work station. He chuckled a bit.

“That’s a lot of flowers...what exactly am I looking at and what do you need?” Elizabeth asked.

“What you have in front of you is fifteen different types of flowers. White camellias. White avalanche roses. White germini. White hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. Alstroemeria. Ranunculus. Bleeding hearts. Calla lilies. Delphiniums. Muscari flowers. Baby’s breath. Forget-me-not blues. Snowbell. Snowball viburnum.” Gideon could list them off in his sleep.

“And what do you need me to do?” Elizabeth asked, tilting her head to the side, her eyes bouncing between the flowers and Gideon.

“Elizabeth, I have fifteen flower choices for the bouquet and I need to narrow it down to six,” Gideon gestured to the table. “I need you to pick out four that you think should got into the bouquet.”

“I thought you needed six...?” Beth responded with a frown, tugging her hair behind her ear and looking at him with a puzzled look.

“It’s a six flower bouquet, you’re right, but I’ve already picked out two flowers that absolutely need to be in the final set and I actually picked them out as specialty for this bouquet,” Gideon responded, gathering a few stems of a pale blue petite flower that Elizabeth didn’t see anywhere else in the shop. “Forget-me-nots and snowbells. They’re not centerpiece flowers by any means, neither of them are traditionally bouquet flowers since they’re both wild and fragile but with a bit of magic, none of that matters. They’re too important not to be included.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m not sure, given the nature of your father’s characterization in the novel, if you’ve read Peter Pan, but forget-me-not flowers are used by Barrie to describe the color of your father’s eyes and since this bouquet is an anniversary gift from your father to your mother, I felt that it was prudent to use them since the use of their description is quite accurate.” 

Mr. Jones had very blue eyes. Gideon had only noticed though because Westley had the same unnaturally beautiful eyes. He wanted Mrs. Jones to immediately think of those eyes when she saw the bouquet.

“And the snowbells?” Elizabeth asked, nodding her head towards the untouched white buds.

“Well, you weren’t alive to see it, but snowbells were in your mother’s original wedding bouquet. It seems to be a running trend in your family - a love for snowbells. It would be a florist’s sin not to use them for an anniversary.”

Elizabeth nodded, offering no verbal response. Her green eyes were trained on the table, looking at all of her options. She placed the forget-me-nots back on the table next to the cluster of snowbells. She tapped her fingers against the table, much like her father had done two weeks prior, as she weighed all the choices silently. It was a brief moment before she picked up the white avalanche roses. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen a bouquet without roses before. And roses mean love, right?” she asked, looking at Gideon with a bit of uncertainty.

“Roses have different meanings depending on the color to be honest, though most of those meanings involved love. Red roses are the most popular and they normally convey deep emotions like love or admiration,” Gideon started, scratching behind his ear as he began to lecture. “However, yellow roses are often used to symbolize friendship and caring. White roses, the ones you pick, are generally associated with new beginnings and innocence. Often used for weddings bouquets. I doubt either of your parents care much about the meanings behind flowers though, so don’t let that sway your judgement.”

“Well okay, but weddings and white roses…I think that’s a good choice then,” Elizabeth muttered as she placed the avalanche roses next to the other two flowers.

She went back to studying the table again before she picked up some blue hydrangeas and two stems of bleeding hearts.

“What about these? Which one would you choose?”

“Honestly? I would pick both because they’re entirely different shades of blue and different sizes. Hydrangeas in my experience are good flowers to make a bouquet look full and they come in rather intense shades. I grew those hydrangeas personally. The key to that blue is aluminum. Most florists buy high alkaline fertilizer and soil and just use that. I also bury aluminum cans and nails to help make the color pop,” Gideon smiled. “I actually discovered that trick in a detective novel. Sue Grafton and her Kinsey Milhone series. Fun read, that.”

Elizabeth gave him an amused look and Gideon realized for a moment that he had been rambling on about flowers, books and the like again. His cheeks grew a bit warm and looked away for a moment, slightly embarrassed that he had been so caught up in his own interests. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much before in my life,” she commented with a small smile. 

“Well, it’s not like we hang out around each other much. That would be a bit weird considering you’re like a little kid. I’ve got like what? Five years on you? Yeah…I was almost five when you were born. You were even tiny then. Made a lot of noise too. Though, you are pretty cool for a munchkin, I must admit.” 

“Not a munchkin,” she muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare. 

“Right, sorry,” Gideon replied, not sounding apologetic in the least.

Silence fell between them for a moment. Elizabeth looked down at the hydrangeas and the bleeding hearts in her hands thoughtfully. Gideon waited, welcoming the quiet. Most people found lulls in conversation awkward, but he found them relaxing. It allowed him to think and fully digest the content of the conservation had previously.

“What do hydrangeas mean?” she asked after a brief period.

“Like I said before, your parents probably aren’t knowledgeable on flower language so it doesn't matter but hydrangeas have various meanings depending on what bouquet they’re in. Sometimes they express vanity and boastfulness, but most view them as expressing heartfelt emotions, gratefulness and understanding. Most florists agree that they’re a fourth wedding anniversary flower that is meant to represent enduring grace and beauty,” Gideon replied.

The corners of his lips tugging up faintly. He liked during hydrangeas, they were an easy flower to grow, came in various colors and always made arrangements look fuller than they actually were. They were basically a staple in his arrangements.

“And the bleeding hearts?”

Gideon ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

“Another flower with a lot of different meanings,” he started. “Sometimes they mean that the giver and receiver have a connection that goes beyond life and death. Sometimes it mean that the emotions between the two are very open and earnest...But most of the time, they are meant to symbolize passion...very deep passion...a specific type of passion…”

“You mean sex,” Elizabeth stated bluntly.

Gideon felt his jaw drop as Elizabeth gave him an unimpressed look, both eyebrows raised.

“What?” Gideon couldn’t believe what he had just heard. This was Westley’s kid sister; his eleven-year old kid sister. He didn't know how to respond. What was an appropriate response when an eleven-year old mentioned sex?

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“I’m in the fifth grade, Gideon, I know what sex is. I’m not stupid.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered under his breath, bringing his hands up to his face. He just wanted to get away from this suddenly uncomfortable conversation and was silently praying that the floor would just open up and swallow him. 

“Seriously, you know my brothers, how could I not know? I’m pretty even Neddy knows what it is and he’s six,” she continued.

Gideon couldn’t take it anymore. He placed his hand over her mouth. Elizabeth glared at him viciously and immediately licked his palm in response, hoping that he would remove it. That trick would have probably worked anyone else except Gideon Gold, who was best friends with Westley Jones who was all types of disgusting at times. Palm licking didn’t phase him.

“We’re stopping this conversation right now,” he said firmly. “We have reached a ‘Do not pass Go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars’ point. When I remove my hand, we’re going to go back to talking about flowers...Got it?”

She continued to glare him but when she realized that he had no intentions of removing his hand until she agreed, she gave a stiff but subtle nod. He removed his hand and brusquely wiped his palm against his apron. 

“So...blue hydrangeas and bleeding hearts?” he asked, nodding at the flowers in her hands.

“Yeah, I like them, even though you’re weird about the bleeding hearts,” Elizabeth responded.

“Alright, one flower left to pick and we’ve got three blue and two whites so far. Since we have already a large white in the avalanche roses, I’m gonna suggest you go with a simpler kind of white flower to keep the symmetry. Maybe the snowball viburnum or the baby’s breath.” 

“Baby’s breath,” Elizabeth said firmly, placing the bleeding hearts and hydrangeas down next to the roses, forget-me-nots and snowbells. She reached for the simple sprigs of baby’s breath and placed them next to the others.

“You’re not going to ask me what they mean?” Gideon asked with a small smile.

“No, because they probably mean something dirty in flower language and you’re a wimp and can’t handle it,” Elizabeth replied, giving him a far too dry look for an eleven-year old. He had no doubts that she learned that one from either her brothers or her parents.

He sighed.

“Well, we have ourselves a bouquet, Elizabeth. Nice job. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your eye is almost as good as mine,” Gideon said, deciding to ignore her jab. “You’ve got quite the knack. You should put flower arrangements down on your resume next to sword fighting and nad kicking.”

“My what?” Elizabeth frowned, looking a bit confused.

“Let me get this straight, you know what sex is but you don’t know what a resume is?” Gideon asked in disbelief.

“What’s a resume?” she asked, still puzzled.

 Gideon groaned and brought his hand up to his face and sighed heavily. He could feel a migraine coming on.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “The priorities of the youth.”

When he had arranged the flowers to both his and Elizabeth’s liking, Gideon was satisfied with how aesthetically pleasing it was. If Mr. and Mrs. Jones didn’t like it, he would eat his own foot. When he arrived home, he was still so pleased with the outcome of his and Elizabeth’s work that not even his father’s passive aggressive remarks about the flower shop bothered him that evening.

His excitement continued into the next morning and Grandpa Moe gave him a puzzled look when he walked into the shop, whistling a nameless tune and smiling as he went about his morning routine of fixing the shop up for opening. He took the bouquet out from the back room and placed it in the glass display behind the counter, taking a moment to give it an extra magic kick to keep the flowers fresh and strong. Considering how much magic Gideon had put into the flowers already, he wouldn’t be surprised if they remained in good health for another two months. 

His grin grew when the shop door open, bell merrily ringing, and Mr. Jones swaggered in. Without so much of a greeting, Gideon immediately turned around and grabbed the bouquet out of the display, placing it on the counter. Mr. Jones’s eyes lit up with understanding and he stared at the bouquet with wonderment.

“Is this...is this it?” he asked, gesturing to the flowers.

“Yeah, it is,” Gideon confirmed with a nod of his head. “Will it do?”

 “It’s gorgeous, she’s going to love it!” Mr. Jones said breathlessly, not taking his eyes off the large bouquet. “Well done, lad.”

“I had some help…” Gideon admitted with a small laugh. “Elizabeth came by the shop last night, hiding from Mrs. Nolan and she helped me pick out the flowers.”

“Elizabeth?” Mr. Jones looked confused for a moment, blinking slowly. It took him a moment, but Gideon watched as recognition crossed his face. “You mean Beth? My Beth? My Beth helped you with flowers?”

“Yes, your daughter has an eye for flowers,” Gideon chuckled.   

“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” Mr. Jones chuckled, fishing out his wallet. “How much do I owe you, lad?”

Gideon knew the price. He had put a lot of thought into it, writing down the cost of each flower and the amount of time that went into the arrangement. He had calculated it all last night before he had left the shop. It was on the tip of his tongue, but something inside of him refused to say it.

“Nothing,” he blurted out. “You owe nothing.”

 Mr. Jones looked at him in puzzlement.

“What do you mean? I must owe you something. It looks incredibly expensive. I have no issue with whatever price you name.”

It was an expensive bouquet. Beth had not chosen cheap flowers, but Grandpa Moe’s words about investing in customers and treating them right rang in the back of his head. In the four months that he worked in the flower shop, Mr. Jones was the most frequent customer with his bimonthly roses.

“Mr. Jones, you always come in here. You’re our most loyal customer and you always leave us something in the tip jar, which no one else does. It’s your anniversary and your daughter did kinda do my job yesterday for me, so you don’t owe anything. It’s free. I refuse to accept payment. Your money is no good for that bouquet.”

Mr. Jones stared at him intensely but Gideon stood his ground and stared back. He felt like Mr. Jones was mentally drilling a hole into his head, but he didn’t want to back down. 

“You feel really strongly about this, don’t you lad?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yes,” Gideon said firmly.

“Very well,” he said, letting out another heavy breath and picking up the flowers. “Thank you, Gideon, but don’t ever do this again, you hear me?”

 “Loud and clear, Mr. Jones,” Gideon replied with a broad grin.

“You can stop me from paying this time,” Mr. Jones said casually and Gideon suddenly realized that he hadn’t put his wallet away. “But you can’t stop me from tipping.”

Gideon’s eyes went wide as Mr. Jones took three fifty-dollar bills out his wallet and placed them in the tip jar with a mischievous smile. Gideon was so stunned by the action that he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything as Mr. Jones gave him a wink and an almost mocking salute before walking out the door. He had been thoroughly outmaneuvered and Gideon couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh as he eyed the hundred and fifty dollars that now sat  in the jar. The old man still had some pirate left to him after all.


End file.
